Technicalities
by Tears of Insanity
Summary: Belle wants children - Vincent does not. Well, this could get complicated. BelleVincent. T for now, subject to change.
1. Disagreement

So, I'm pretty much the worst fanfiction writer ever because I'm starting a new story even though I've neglected my other two for a good four and a half months now. Sorry! I got on this Disney kick and wanted to see if I could do Beauty and the Beast any justice. Feel free to rant, rave, and threaten in your reviews... but don't forget to tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and the Beast, nor will I ever. -sniffs-

Chapter One: Disagreement

* * *

It was his eyes, Belle mused, that had really captured her heart.

The only problem with this musing was that it decided to occur in the middle of an argument they were having about a decidedly important topic: whether or not the couple planned to produce any children in the near (or even distant) future.

Vincent's intense blue eyes were far from passive as he clenched his teeth, his hair mussed from running a hand through it one too many times. Though his tone was harsh - commanding, even - Belle could not help but be distracted by the passion that lit those eyes; her favorite pair in the world. Even while they fought with everything in them, nothing could possibly stop her from appreciating how unique they were, and how they were more hers than her own set could ever be.

"Are you listening to me, Belle?" he snapped, and she found herself sighing. "Well?"

"I'm listening to you," she insisted, distracted from her more-friendly thoughts. "And I'm hearing you, too."

He paused for a moment, awarding her a puzzled look. "What a terribly odd thing to say," he remarked. "They mean the same thing!"

"They don't," she argued, and before she could support such a claim, he cut her off.

"No," he snapped. "We're not going to start another argument when we've barely gotten to the heart of this one! I don't think you fully understand what I'm trying to say -"

"On the contrary, dear husband, I think I understand perfectly! I think it is _you _who is refusing to hear my words!"

"We don't need children, Belle," he said flatly, completely disregarding her accusation. "We've only been married four months, and we're both so young! What has possessed you into thinking that we need a further addition to our family when our family is so new in the first place?"

"I am twenty-one," she said heatedly, "and _you _are twenty-three. We are not so young, and many people from the village were having children at sixteen and seventeen!"

"Well, we're not in the village," he countered, "and we have all of our lives ahead of us. Must we rush into eliminating 'us' time? With a baby, we would be constantly distracted - we would have no time for each other any more!"

Belle wanted to scream - she wanted to scream so loudly that he would continue hearing it echo off the mountains well into the night. Her lips were pulled tightly into a frown, her eyes blazing with anger that was the result of her opinion (that was not, perhaps, so far from the truth) that he had no interest in listening to what she had to say.

"You are being utterly unreasonable," she told him, her tone flat and lacking the patience that was almost always present. "I think a baby would bring us closer together - in fact, I think it would make us more of a family than we already are."

"It can wait," he insisted. "It doesn't have to be _now_."

"When, then?" Belle demanded, throwing her hands into air with frustration. "You are never going to want children, are you? Today, we're too young. Next year, we'll be too busy. In five years, we'll be too old!"

Vincent didn't respond, and therefore did not deny it.

Letting herself fall into a well-cushioned armchair, Belle fought back the tears that were beginning to build up in her eyes. "We won't live forever, you know," she informed him, trying to keep her voice calm. She resorted to the last defense she had against his stubborn refusal. "As a prince, it's your job to produce an heir so that the title must live on."

"I don't follow the restrictions placed upon me by my birth," he returned coolly. "If I choose so, I will simply appoint an heir when we are getting older. Or, better yet, I'll have the palace donated - turned into a museum or something. After all, I will have no further use for it."

"You would rather donate your palace than have children with me?" she asked in disbelief. Her cheeks, already slightly tinted from her anger, turned bright red with the rage that replaced it. "Fine, then! Perhaps I will find another prince more suited to my wants!"

"Good!" he snarled back. "And perhaps he'll be a bumbling idiot like every father in France!" With that, he stormed out of the parlor, leaving her to stare after him.

"Oh!" she muttered to herself, lifting her knees to her chest as the tears began to flow freely.

Outside the parlor, Lumiere and Cogsworth kept their eyes cast down as their master walked briskly past them, afraid (and ashamed) to meet his eyes.

"_Mon dieu_," Lumiere murmured with a sigh.

* * *

Well, what'd you think? Should I put down the (metaphorical) pen and give up completely? Decent enough to perhaps, maybe, possibly keep going? Don't forget to review and let me know!

Ever yours,

-~- Tears of Insanity


	2. Despair

Despite the fact that I still have not updated either of my other chapters - partially due to the fact that I just finished the first chapter of this story approximately five minutes ago - I am gracing (tormenting?) you with yet another installment. I'm really into this!

Disclaimer: Not mine. -sighs wistfully-

Chapter Two: Despair

* * *

Belle rose wearily out of bed, still exhausted. However, with the light shining in the room as it was, she knew with almost complete certainty that she would not get any more sleep - at least, not right at that moment. She had been tossing and turning all night and crying for some of it, the aftereffects of her fight with her husband. He had never even come to bed - she imagined he had either slept in a guest bedroom or simply hadn't gone to bed at all.

"Just you this morning, dear?" Mrs. Potts asked, her voice soothing as Belle walked down the stairs. She took in the shadows beneath the princess' eyes and the redness left over from her tears and, as gossip tends to spread in a palace with servants so familiar and close, knew exactly what the entire thing was about.

The poor girl bravely put on a smile and attempted to cheer up. "Yes," she replied, not bothering with an explanation - the knowing look in Mrs. Potts' eyes told her there was no need for that. "I suppose Vincent is out."

Mrs. Potts clicked her teeth in clear disapproval of the prince's behavior. She had taken care of him his entire life as if he were one of her own, but she would be ashamed to call him her son right at that moment. She could respect his opinion, of course - that wasn't something he could help. However, the mistreatment of his wife was utterly unacceptable.

"Well, take your seat," she said, her tone maternal. "I'll be out with something nice and hot in no time, my dear. We'll get those spirits up!"

Belle's smile was grateful but still did not touch her eyes. The high ceilings seemed ominous this morning - it simply made the room feel more, well, empty. She could barely stand it. Deciding that it wouldn't hurt for her to venture off for a few moments, she stood up and headed towards the library, hoping to find a good book that she could pass the day away with.

Moments after she left, Vincent wandered into the dining hall, his hair loose and unkept about his face. He was still in the clothing he had worn the day before, not having had access to his wardrobe in the bedroom because he had slept elsewhere.

He walked over and sat into the large chair at the head of the table, seeming to sink into it. He looked up at the sound of clinging dishes as Mrs. Potts bustled out with a pot of tea, cup, and saucer. Brows furrowed, he inquired, "How did you know I was out here already?"

She looked around rather than answering and then fixed him with an angry look. "You scared her away, didn't you? Now, you listen to me! I don't dare involve myself in the matters between a man and wife, but she needs a hot breakfast, that girl, and you had no right to come in here when you knew she would leave!"

A frown placed itself as the dominant feature on the prince's face. "What are you talking about?" he asked slowly. "There was no one in here when I came in."

"No one..." Mrs. Potts repeated, her face loosening in confusion. "But she just sat down minutes ago! I told her I would be out with her breakfast."

Vincent felt the familiar, faint wave of panic rush over him. "She just disappeared?" No matter how many times they fought or how many horrid words they exchanged, no one dared deny that his wife was the main - if not the only - source of real light in his life, and it took very little to stir up concern for her. "Where could she have gone to?"

The matronly woman recognized the expression of concern on her face and, though she thought he deserved a bit of a scare, sought to console him. "Now, don't get all upset. There are a number of places she might have gone off to. Perhaps she simply needed to use the bathroom."

Vincent stood up, ignoring her suggestion. That was possible, sure - or perhaps she was sick and needed assistance, or had decided to leave him, or had been taken... In his fright, rationality had no place; it did not cross his mind that she wouldn't have wanted breakfast if she had been ill or that she would not just simply stand up and leave the castle or that no one could have gotten into the castle and into the dining hall without a servant seeing them either on the way in or on the way out.

"Belle?" he called up the stairs as he ran up them. "Belle! Are you up there?"

He went on to check several rooms until several of the servants joined him in his search, not knowing the circumstances but obviously knowing that the princess was, for all intents and purposes, missing.

By the time he thought to check the library, his chest was fairly clenched and his entire body was hot. He did not even bother calling her name this time, simply bursting desperately through the doors. It took him a moment to recognize that she was even in there, standing by a shelf and looking through titles. Relief swept over him and then unjustified anger, but even as she looked over at him with a surprised and then confused expression, he had crossed the distance between them and crushed her to his chest.

"Belle," he growled into her hair. "What right do you have, disappearing like that? I nearly dropped with fear!"

Her eyebrows shot up and she tilted her head back to look at him. "You're being overdramatic," she informed him, but the corner of her lips twitched in a small smile. "I just wanted to find a book before Mrs. Potts got back out with breakfast, although I do suppose it's been several minutes longer that I expected."

"We've been looking for you for ten," he informed her, but the anger had dissolved once she had smiled. "Don't do things like that."

"Well, you weren't at the table, so I didn't think anyone would notice..." She regretted her words promptly as she was reminded of precisely why he had been absent, her smile fading. She looked down at his chest, no longer willing to meet his eyes as they darker.

"I'm..." He took a deep breath, obviously not used to apologizing. "I'm sorry, Belle. For what I said last night, and for not coming to bed with you."

She felt her eyes grow warm again and buried her face in his chest instead of responding. He squeezed her and kissed the top of her head, promising himself that the next time the subject of children came up, he would simply insist that they drop it.

"Belle? Princess Belle, are you - oh!" Babette's voice interrupted the moment. "Oh, my - continue!" She disappeared behind the door, shutting it hurriedly.

With a sigh, the brown-eyed girl pulled out of his embrace. Though she didn't want to fight again, the topic of their dispute was at the very front of her mind, and she simply couldn't escape it. As such, she said nothing, keeping her eyes on the floor and the terribly interesting marbled carpet.

"Belle," he murmured, his voice saturated with something close to pain. "Must it be like this? Can we not move on?"

Guilt flooded through her. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely, her tone oddly soft. "I won't bring it up again."

"Thank you," he sighed. He cupped her chin and placed a warm kiss on her lips. "Let's go down to breakfast, all right?"

She nodded once, and though she put on a wonderfully radiant smile and laughed and acted as she normally would for the rest of the day, the sad, disappointed feeling did not leave for weeks, at which point she sorrowfully resigned to her fate.

* * *

No, this isn't the end. :P That would just be cruel! However, there will be a bit of a time-skip in the next chapter, I think. Even so, let me know what you think? The button's right there - it won't take but a moment!

Ever yours,

-~- Tears of Insanity


	3. Unplanned

To be honest, I've probably got more planning done in place for this story (at chapter three!) than I ever have had on any story I've written! I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but I'm really excited. Excited enough, at least, to be writing a chapter at six o'clock in the morning. I deserve some pretty intense credit for this, guys.

Disclaimer: If I owned Beauty and the Beast, I wouldn't be on fanfiction. No offense. 3

Chapter Three: Unplanned

* * *

Four months went by with absolutely no mentioning of the word "children" betwixt the married couple. They avoided the subject all together, pretended it didn't exist, and were even quite successful in the matter. Their marriage had returned to its initial happy state and they found themselves constantly laughing enjoying each other's presence.

For four months, and four months only.

Mrs. Potts looked up in alarm as Belle came bursting into the kitchen, her eyes bright with fear and tears. The rest of the servants glanced over as well in mild surprise, but Belle's eyes were locked only on her, a hint of desperation and even pleading in them as she regarded the older woman.

"I wish to speak with you at your earliest inconvenience," the princess said, her voice naught but a whisper.

Her caring servant wasted no time at all. "Out of the kitchen! Everyone!" she insisted and, though the kitchen was not exactly her domain, no one hesitated to rush out. Mrs. Potts quickly pulled up two stools, sitting on one and beckoning Belle, whose face was still wet with freshly rolling tears, to sit on the other.

"Come, dearie," she said kindly but directly, "what's going on? Have you and the prince been fighting again?"

Belle shook her head slowly several times, trying to figure out how to form words. "H-how..." she trailed off, swallowing, wiping her eyes and starting again. "How do you know if you're in... in... in the family way?"

"The family way...?" Mrs. Potts repeated, trying to understand. "Why, what do you mean?"

The flustered princess made a sound something like a wail but kept her lips shut. "I haven't had my cycle for two months!" she gasped out, and her companion's mouth fell open with an understanding 'o'.

"I thought the first was just a - a mistake, something that happens to everyone," Belle continued with a whimper. "But now it's two and I've never been irregular, never in my life. I've been having dizzy spells and feeling sick at the most random times, and the village ladies always said... _Mon dieu_, I cannot possibly be...?" Her eyes begged for Mrs. Potts to give her some other explanation, but the woman simply continued to stare at her, her face as sympathetic as Belle had ever seen it.

"_Sacrebleu_," she whispered. "Oh, you poor, poor thing. Oh, my, oh, my... Under any other circumstances, this would be so... But these aren't other circumstances. Come here, dear." She stood up with her arms open and Belle ran into the embrace, letting herself fall apart in her arms as she heaved and sobbed.

After several minutes of this, Mrs. Potts began to encourage her to calm down, to stop crying. "Shh, dearie, you must calm down. If you really do have a baby, you mustn't let yourself get this upset - it's very fragile. Hush, now, poor thing. I'll fetch the doctor and we'll see if we are even correct, all right, dear? There's a chance this isn't even the case."

Slowly, deep breaths and a glass of water put an end to the fit that could only be described as a panic attack.

"Go up to your bedchambers, now, all right?" she requested, though it was more of a nicely-worded order. "I'll be up there shortly with him."

"And Vincent?" Belle whispered. "What if Vincent asks?"

She shook her head and said firmly, "Now, don't you worry about that. You let me handle the prince. I'll simply tell him you're feeling ill - which, by the look of it, is not at all untrue. Hurry up there, now."

Belle nodded, her eyes wide and trusting as she left the kitchen and scurried up the stairs where she proceeded to pace about the room until the physician, who doubled as the castle gardener, came up with Mrs. Potts in tow.

The examination itself felt odd to Belle and, at times, terribly invasive. It consisted mostly of questions about her cycles, her appetite, how she'd been feeling - everything she would have expected. However, he also began to press lightly against her stomach and lower, at one point even lowering his ear to it as if he could possibly tell by listening! He seemed to remain completely calm throughout the entire thing, and Belle began to think that maybe she had just been paranoid, until -

"I have confirmed, Your Highness," the physician said gravely. "You are expecting."

This time, no amount of encouraging or pleading from either the doctor or Mrs. Potts could stop the fit that followed.

Meanwhile, Vincent was arguing with Lumiere and Cogsworth.

"What do you mean, sick? How sick is she?" he demanded, his heart beating faster.

"We - well, we don't know," Lumiere replied cautiously.

"Don't _know_? How can you not know?" he all but roared, attempting to get past them and to the stairs. For the third time, both men got in his way.

"Well, the doctor is just seeing her now," Cogsworth explained hastily, his moustache twitching in her nervousness.

"We didn't see her," the thinner of the two added. "Mrs. Potts simply told us that she was fetching Louis for the princess."

"So why won't you let me past?" the prince responded, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"We were given directions to keep everyone out," was his reply, and one he was clearly not satisfied with.

The door to their bedroom opened and Mrs. Potts stepped into the hallway, easily seen from the stairs. Vincent pushed through the men that were more of a barricade and took the stairs two at a time. "Mrs. Potts?" he questioned, his eyes clear with innocent concern. "Belle - is she... all right?"

"The princess needs her rest," Mrs. Potts said, her lips oddly stiff. "I would advise against visiting her."

His stomach dropped. "Why? Is she so terribly ill? I should be -"

"No," the portly servant replied. "She needs rest, and with you there, she would be distracted. She has simply come down with a bug."

"Why is Louis still in there with her?" he challenged.

"Louis is performing a regular check-up," she responded without missing a beat, "and should be out shortly. Make yourself busy elsewhere - you will be of more use to Belle when she has rested some."

As Vincent walked off, sulking, Lumiere and Cogsworth turned to Mrs. Potts. "What's going on?" they each asked a variant of.

"If either of you speak a word, I will wring your necks - both of you," she said curtly, and neither man had a doubt that she would uphold her promise. "The princess is expecting. She is nearly two months along."

Cogsworth slipped to the floor in a nervous faint as Lumiere muttered an oath that had even Mrs. Potts blushing.

* * *

Le gasp! A third chapter within three hours? Lumiere swears? Belle is pregnant? I'm open to ideas, theories, opinions, compliments, insults, suggestions - the whole nine yards!

Ever yours,

-~- Tears of Insanity


	4. Perfection

I have a song from Wicked stuck in my head and that may or may not influence this next chapter. Also - REVIEWS! The three of you that reviewed deserve cookies and tea and all sorts of other good things that I unfortunately cannot give you unless you decide to come visit me.

Disclaimer: I own neither beauty nor beast.

Chapter Four: Perfection

* * *

Having changed back into her night dress, Belle used the sleeves to wipe all traces of wetness from her eyes. A look in the mirror told her that she did, indeed, look very sick - and to someone who already knew she was, it would seem completely ordinary.

Standing there in front of the mirror, she glanced down at her stomach, placing her hands over her lower belly. There was no denying it - there was a definitive bump beneath her fingers that hadn't been there weeks earlier, and for a girl as slim as she, it was going to start becoming noticeable rapidly.

It was like this that the prince found her as he quietly opened the door. "Belle?" he asked softly.

She turned to look at him, and he felt a pang of sympathy as he took in her flushed cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. And she'd been holding her stomach, too - she must be feeling sick to it, he thought, and sighed.

"You should be in bed, _cherie_," he said, walking over and wrapping his arms around her. She wondered for just a few seconds if he knew and simply didn't mind, but his next works destroyed the possibility: "Mrs. Potts told me you were sick and to let you rest, but it does't look like you were, anyway!"

Belle considered telling him, right then and there. There was no time like the present, she figured, and the longer she waited, the harder it would be... But she couldn't do it.

"I couldn't sleep," she sighed, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"My poor Belle," the prince noted. "Come on, let's go to sleep, all right? I'll stay with you."

"So early in the day?" she asked in surprise. "The sun is not even fully down yet!"

He nodded. "We can talk until you fall asleep."

He assumed that her look of distress at the prospect was because she was too tired to talk, not because she didn't want to, and quickly cleared up the matter. She gratefully nodded and crawled into bed, him following her and holding her once more. She fell asleep within minutes, her head tucked away in his shoulder, and though he didn't fall asleep for hours afterward, he didn't move so as not to wake her.

When Belle woke up, it was still terribly early, and Vincent was somewhat sprawled across the bed. She carefully untangled herself from his array of limbs, feeling a bit better than she had the day before. Madame came in shortly afterward to help her dress, and now that she was actually thinking of it, she couldn't help but notice how terribly tight the torso of her dress felt - she supposed she simply hadn't been paying attention before.

Madame offered her a knowing smile but Belle disregarded it, keeping her eyes anywhere but the kindly servant's face. Neither spoke a word, lest the prince secretly be awake or awaken halfway through a sentence he ought not to hear.

She made her way downstairs, only to be met by Mrs. Potts outside the kitchen. "Come with me, dear," she said, nodding her head for Belle to follow. As she did so, she was surprised to find that she was heading towards the servants' wing.

"This is hardly proper for a princess," Mrs. Potts muttered, "but it will have to do. No one else will overhear us here." Belle understood perfectly.

The bedchamber Mrs. Potts had was not so very different from the master bedroom, except perhaps a bit more plain. She tried not to look around very much, not wanting her to think she was being nosy.

They both sat down on the bed, and neither woman said anything for several moments.

Mrs. Potts was the one to finally break the silence, saying, "You know you will have to tell him eventually," as comfortingly as she could. "A twig like yourself, it's a wonder you haven't already busted one or two of your dresses, and it won't be long under he notices - the Master always picks up on detail."

Belle fought the urge to place her head in her hands and cry again. "I know," she murmured. "I just don't know how to... how to break it to him."

Her female advisor pursed her lips, shaking her head and muttering something under her breath. With a sigh, she offered, "Perhaps I could tell him for you."

The princess shook her head. "No, no, that would make matters worse, I think. He should hear it from me. I just need to figure it out."

"Sooner is better than later," she counseled. "Oh, my, this is a bad situation."

"Mrs. Potts?" Belle asked meekly, her cheeks tinging pink as she stared at her fiddling hands.

"Yes, dearie? What is it?"

"Is it wrong for me to be... just the tiniest bit..." Her eyes, wide and imploring, nearly broke the servant's heart.

"Excited?" she asked. Belle nodded once, tears brimming once more. "Of course not," she encouraged, "you should be excited! You just watch, we'll get this all straightened out with the prince and you two will be the happiest couple in all of France. Don't you worry your head about it. A baby is a precious thing."

Belle nodded once, sniffed, and forced back the wetness in her eyes. "I'm going to tell him," came her promise. "Just... just not now. I need to get a handle on this myself before I can expect Vincent to do the same."

"That's quite fair, dearie," Mrs. Potts said with a nod. "Quite fair. You don't need the added stress right now. Come on downstairs, then - we need to get some food in you! You're eating for two, now, my dear!"

Belle allowed herself a small smile, thinking that perhaps the situation was not as bad as she was making it out to be. Maybe Vincent would understand and actually be excited about it, too - maybe everything would work out perfectly, just as Mrs. Potts promised.

That hope was enough to keep her head with, but not enough to get her to tell him.

* * *

I hope the fact that I'm posting these chapters so rapidly isn't taking away from the quality of them. :/ It's making me feel kind of bad; I feel like I'm spending less time on them than I should be, but I simply can't help it! I've got muse enough to write this and its sequel by tomorrow morning, haha.

Hit the button - I need to know what you're thinking!

Ever yours,

-~- Tears of Insanity


	5. Beast

I won't know for sure until I've typed it, but I'm feeling some drama over here.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. -pouts-

Chapter Five: Beast

* * *

Belle allowed a month to slip away under her nose - or perhaps on purpose. She busied herself with talks with Mrs. Potts and Babette, who had also been let in on the secret under the agreement that she, too, refrain from spreading it. Mrs. Potts was shoving her full of food three times a day, to the point where even Vincent was commenting on how much food Belle was being asked to consume. Of course, the servant simply explained that Belle needed to eat more, for she was afraid the poor thing might wither away, and reminded him that it was never polite to comment on a woman's eating habits.

Madame had discreetly altered several of Belle's dresses, but even though that had only been done a week earlier, they already felt as if they were growing tight again.

Aside from all of that, the palace remained in its normal, cheery state. The prince had absolutely no reason to suspect anything was amiss, though perhaps it would have been easier if he had - Belle could not have directly denied the pregnancy if he had questioned her on it.

It was while Mrs. Potts and Belle were animatedly discussing the baby in the kitchen that they were caught.

"Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?" Belle asked curiously as she leaned against the countertop. They were the only two people in there as it was between meals and all of the dishes and silverware had been washed and dried.

"Oh, there's simply no way to tell," Mrs. Potts said, looking the young woman over approvingly. There was a healthy flush to her cheeks and a smile in her eyes that could be the result of nothing but a baby.

"I think I might like a boy," Belle mused. "Oh, I'm so excited!"

"Excited for what?" came the interruption. Both women spun around to look at the prince, who was standing there with a slightly confused and increasingly angry expression. "A boy what?"

Mrs. Potts pressed her lips together while Belle's face grew red with a mixture of fear, embarassment, and panic.

"Well?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing. Deep down, he knew exactly what they were talking about - he just wouldn't admit it to himself. "Are we getting another dog?"

Belle's heart began to slam against her chest and for several moments, she still did not speak. Finally, she murmured as quietly as possible, "No, we're not getting a dog."

"Come again?" He took a step forward, feeling the fury rise within him though he was not entirely positive what was angering him so.

"We're not getting a dog," she said, speaking loud enough for him to easily hear. She attempted to take a deep breath but failed.

"Then what, exactly, would you like a boy of?"

Mrs. Potts stepped forward protectively. "Now, listen to me, young man -"

"Mrs. Potts," Belle murmured in a soft interruption, "would you please leave us for a while?"

The servant stared at her, torn. She couldn't leave the poor dear to be blown to pieces by her husband - but she also couldn't stay if she wasn't wanted. Heaving a great sigh, she nodded, curtsied, and took her leave. All the while, Vincent's eyes remained on his wife, glowering with heat enough to warm the entire palace for a winter day.

"What is this about, Belle?" he asked, his voice nearly a growl.

Belle inhaled and, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor, said, "We're going to have a baby," as firmly as she could.

Silence followed. She lifted her eyes to peek at him, but his expression had not changed at all. "No, we're not," he said simply, moving towards her again. "Not this again, Belle - I don't want to have any children. I thought we were past this."

A look of pain passed over her face. "Oh, Vincent," she whispered. "I'm already... The baby is already growing."

He froze.

"How can that be?" he nearly roared. "I have never once released inside you!"

Belle's face erupted in a blush. "Vincent, don't yell such things, it's not proper to talk about -"

"I don't give half a damn about what's proper!" he shouted, moments away from losing control. "What trickery is this? What did you do that made this happen?"

She pulled herself up to all of her meager height and glared back. "I did nothing!" she snapped. "If you remember, just less than three months ago you _did_..." she faltered, "let go, while... we were coupled."

He crossed the distance between them, staring down at her as he was well over a foot taller. "A single time cannot produce a baby," he snarled. "What did you use? One of those old wives' tricks for fertility? No average couple has even produced a child from only a single night!"

"That's not true!" she snapped back, so angry by now that there were tears streaming unnoticed down her hot skin. "I did nothing! I did not plan on this - I respected you and could not have known that you would..." She opted out of saying the words a second time, figuring her point had been made.

"Oh-ho," he laughed mockingly, "so this is _my_ fault? It's my fault you have an unwanted infant growing in you?!"

She paused, then whispered, "I want it."

He lifted his hand and moved to slap her, his hand only inches away from her face before he stopped. She had flinched, her eyes squeezed shut, but made no attempt to move out of his way. When the pain never came, she opened her eyes slowly and saw that he had retracted his hand and had a blank expression.

"Well," he said after a moment of them simply staring at each other, "I don't. Get rid of it."

"What?" she gasped, unable to believe her own ears - nor the fact that her husband would say such a thing. "Get rid of it? What do you mean, get rid of it?"

"Aren't there things women can do when they don't want a child? A tea, I think, or harsh impact -"

This time, it was her slapping him, and she didn't stop halfway - her palm collided with his cheek with a loud crack, and as she went to pull her hand back, he grabbed it by her forearm, squeezing it (whether this was intentional or unintional was unclear) until she cried out.

"Don't you ever touch me like that," he said, his voice low and threatening. "Ever. Do you hear me?"

"Vincent, let go -"

"Hush! _Mon dieu_, how long have you known about this child?" he demanded.

"Perhaps a month," she said, her eyes tearing. "You're hurting me!"

He released her arm and she stumbled backward, holding it close to her chest.

Her husband regarded her with disgust. "We will sleep in separate bedrooms," he told her flatly, "and when it is born, it is to be given away."

Instead of the angry retort that he expected, she gasped and folded over, clutching her middle with a moan.

"Stop that," he commanded, fighting back the jolt he felt in his chest at the sight. "You're being melodramat - Belle!" He lunged forward just in time to catch her before she fell to the ground, her face so white it was nearly blue.

"Belle?" he asked in alarm, goosebumps rising along his arms. "Belle, _mon cherie_, what's going on?" He cupped her head, pulling it back to look at at her eyes, fevered with pain.

She seemed lucid for a moment, staring up at him and whispering, "You _beast,_" then falling limp in his arms.

His roar for Mrs. Potts could be heard from any corner of the castle, his terror only growing further when he noticed the blood pooling underneath his wife.

* * *

Cliffhanger! I, myself, despite them... But they are good for plots and suspense, baha. I'll try not to be too terribly cruel and get the next post out as soon as I can - hopefully later tonight!

Ever yours,

-~- Tears of Insanity


	6. Sickbed

To be perfectly honest, it occurred to me that the fact that I am posting these chapters so rapidly means that not only less people are seeing them, but also that less people are reviewing. However, I decided that it would be completely unfair to simply stop updating because I was missing out on reviews - a writer who only writes for a review number isn't a very good one. The story's for you, not for me! However, that only makes your reviews that much more important to me. I need to know what I'm doing right, what I'm doing wrong, what I could do to make it better - things that, a lot of the time, only the reader can tell. So, please, review; your opinion matters!

Disclaimer: I am but a puny peasant with no claims to anything.

Chapter Six: Sickbed

* * *

Vincent stared blankly ahead at the wall, his mind fogged over.

Mrs. Potts had come rushing in, along with Lumiere and Cogsworth. A single look at Belle and the two male servants had been sent off to find Louis and meet them in the royal bedroom, where Vincent was then ordered to carry the unconcious princess. No questions had been asked, no accusations made - yet. He knew very well that that would not be the case for much longer, especially if - if... if something were to happen.

It seemed that Mrs. Potts and the doctor had been in there for hours, when really only about twenty minutes had passed. First, he had paced. Now, he stood in front of a creme-colored wall, considering whacking his head against it once or twice. A few moments later, he collapsed into one of the chairs, his head in his hands.

Off to the side, Cogsworth at Lumiere watched their master, positively at a loss for what to do or say - if anything. Cogsworth was beside himself with "what if"s and "and then"s with the occasional "oh, my, my, my" as he muttered, while Lumiere remained quiet, speculating on what could possibly have occurred to cause such a situation.

It was another ten minutes before the door cracked open, and Vincent was on his feet seemingly before there was even a noise. Mrs. Potts and Louis stepped out, their faces equally somber, and he felt the color drain from his face.

"Belle? Is she -"

"She wants to see you," Mrs. Potts said coldly, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Heavens knows why, but she does."

Relief flooded him at first, and then fear. How could he possibly face her...? He took a step back, his hands raised in front of him as if in defense.

"Oh, no, you don't," she snapped, looking about as friendly as an angry snake. "You put her in that sickbed, and I don't care if she wants you to sit beside her every single minute until she's out of it, but you'll be there if she wants you."

His shoulders slumped in shame.

"The... baby?"

"Her child is alive," came the simple response with discreet emphasis on the word "her." Louis, it seemed, had left without either of them noticing. "Barely. It is quite probable that she'll lose it before morning - right now it's her own health we're worried about. Congratulations - you may very well have not only killed your own infant, but crushed your wife's hopes of ever having any more." At his slightly puzzled look, she exhaled and then explained, "A woman who miscarries is not fit to bear children afterward. Most become infertile, and some manage to conceive only to have it kill them."

It was like he had swallowed a freezing stone. He tried to take all of this in at once. Belle was still in danger. Her baby... their... baby... was still likely to perish. If that happened, he promised himself, he would never touch her in bed again; he couldn't risk impregnating her a second time and losing his Belle as well. Not when that was what he'd been avoiding all along. And, on top of all of that, guilt was eating away at his stomach as it scratched away at his lungs, leaving him breathless and sick at the same time.

"Go in, now," she advised. "And the moment she yawns or her eyelids droop, you are not to speak another word and let her sleep. We'll keep someone outside the room in case of complications."

He nodded, his stomach rolling. "Wait," he requested as she began to walk away.

"Yes?" she asked, regarding him with lifted eyebrows and a passive expression.

"Belle - is she in... Is she in any pain?"

The look she fixed him with said more than words could, and without a verbal response, she turned sharply and left.

With a halting breath, the not-so-noble prince turned the knob and entered the room. The curtains were drawn, making the room shaded but not quite dark. Belle glanced over and looked straight at him, though her eyes didn't seem to be focused; it looked like she was staring straight through him.

He crossed the distance and sat down in a chair beside the bed, those same unfocused eyes following him the same way. Closer, now, he could see how her cheeks were flushed with a fever and sweat made her skin shine. She wore nothing but the thinnest of her nightgowns and a sheet overtop of her, which - he noted with a wave of dizziness - was stained red just below the waist, though it was hard to tell if any of it was fresh.

Vincent picked up a washrag that was in a bucket of frigid water on the ground and gently laid it over her forehead.

"I didn't think you would come," she muttered, her voice characterised by a definitive rasp.

He nearly wept.

"Of course I came, Belle, of course," he insisted, trying to keep his tone light-hearted. It only sounded weak. "Gave us quite a scare, you know..."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. When he went to wave it off, she shook her head and continued. "I'm sorry for - for calling you a -"

"Don't apologize," he snapped. "_Mon dieu_, don't you _dare_ apologize."

"It was wrong of me to say it," she insisted, her voice rising slightly, "especially when I knew what it would -"

"You're not going to die, Belle." Vincent met her eyes fiercely, reading her every thought.

She seemed to crumple before his eyes. "It feels like I am," she whimpered. His own eyes filled with self-hatred in the form of wetness, though he let no tears escape.

"You won't," he promised - a reassurement for both of them. "I won't let you."

A hand on the rag revealed it to already be burning and he muttered an oath that she either didn't hear or chose to ignore. As he dipped it back in the water, he ran his eyes over her figure through the sheet. Despite the two layers, it was easily to detect the bump that was a growing baby, and he began to wonder how he could have missed all of the signs, coming to the conclusion that he had perhaps not wanted to see them.

It wasn't until his fingers were half-numb that he deemed the rag cold enough to return to her head and he placed it there carefully. He then clasped her hand, which rested limply along the side of the bed, in his own and pressed his lips to it.

"If the baby survives -" he began, halting when she let out a tiny whimper. He kissed her hand once more before he continued. "When you're well again," he amended, "we'll start over. We'll do it all the right way, okay?"

She grimaced, and he demanded, "Are you all right? What's wrong? Did I upset you?"

"Pretending to care for it just because I'm not well does nothing," she said simply. Her huge, brown eyes regarded him passively.

"It's not like that, Belle," he said with a scowl. When she did not reply, he sighed and said, "Let's not discuss this now, all right?"

"Yes, Papa," she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut.

Despite Mrs. Pott's warning, an alarm sounded in his head. "What? What did you say?"

She did not respond and he placed an arm on her shoulder. "Belle? What did you say?"

"I'm not feeling well, Papa," Belle muttered in response. "Please, can't I sleep?"

Vincent stared at her insecurely, uncertain whether he should let her be or if this was something that needed attention. "I'm not your father, Belle," he explained softly.

Her eyes opened and she turned to him. "What?"

"You called me 'papa,'" he said, looking over her face and trying to figure out what, exactly, was going on.

"I did not," she said, her brows drawn together. "Why are you sitting in a chair? Come to bed."

"Belle, you're ill." He felt it bubbling in his chest - the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

"I'm not sick, I'm perfectly -"

He attempted to stop her before she could try to sit up but wasn't quick enough. Her face contorted and she let out a strangled cry akin to the sound he would have expected of a wounded kitten - not his precious wife.

She fell back onto the bed with no restraint, seeming to have lost conciousness for the second time. Vincent jumped out of his chair and ran to the door, wrenching it open. Mrs. Potts was sitting in the same chair he himself had sat in, just like she'd promised, and looked up, startled.

"Belle - she doesn't understand - called me 'Papa,'" he gasped. For a moment, the older woman thought he was once more referring to Belle's condition and her eyes narrowed until she took in his white knuckles as he clenched the knob and the wild look in his eyes. Without another word, she followed him in as he attempted to explain what had happened.

The prince would remember that night as one of the worst of his life. Belle would wake up every half hour or so, hallucinating. Sometimes she thought she was younger, sometimes she thought they were different people, and sometimes she didn't know who anyone was nor even herself. Oddly, it was the rare coherent moments that were the worst - the petite brunette would burst into tears, terrified and sometimes so shaken she would vomit until she relapsed back into slumber.

After fetching Mrs. Potts and once more being sent to find Louis, Vincent staunchly refused to leave her side, doing everything he could to help but more often than not feeling like a burden. It was perhaps worse for him than it was even for his wife, for she whiled half the night away sleeping and a quarter of it unaware. He, on the other hand, was forced to watch over and over as she believed it to be a different time or place, sometimes not remembering him or their marriage, until she came to the realization that something was horribly, terribly wrong and eventually drifted off again.

Not a sole in the castle slept - not even the dog, who had at some point slipped into the room and laid down on the far side of her bed.

* * *

What a jerk I am, haha. I'll have the next chapter out for you some time during the day!

Ever yours,

-~- Tears of Insanity


	7. Chances

So, as opposed to the five chapters I whipped out yesterday, today will probably only have two or three. Going through some... relationship complications, I suppose you could call them, and I'm not at my best, nor will I have much time tonight. I'll do what I can.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beauty and the Beast.

Chapter Seven: Chances

* * *

After falling asleep around five-thirty in the morning, it was well into the day before Belle awoke again.

At first glance the room seemed empty, until she felt a slight tugging on her hair. Vincent sat on the edge of the bed with his back against the headboard, running his fingers gently through her brown tresses. She blinked once and then twice, fighting to remember what was going on. The sheets had been replaced and she had been changed into a new nightgown, so no blood was present to stir up her memory - only a very dull pain in her abdomen.

The knowledge came back to her with a gasp that not only knocked the wind out of her but momentarily prevented any new air o a from coming in. Vincent jolted at the sound and looked down at her, his eyes wide and alert despite the shadows under his eyes.

"Am I dead?" she wondered for a brief moment. Her husband winced.

"No, my love," he murmured, "you aren't dead."

Belle seemed to hesitate before asking her next question, debating whether or not she wanted to know the answer yet. Wouldn't it just be easier to go on hoping?

No, she reminded herself. Not knowing was the worst of all possibilities.

"My baby?" she whispered. "Is it dead?"

His lips twisted into a wry half-smile and she told herself that if he dared tell her it was, in fact, gone with that smile on his face, she would leave the castle later that day and never return because there was clearly no chance he would ever change.

However, his response was slightly different than the one she expected.

"Alive," he said with a short chuckle, then added darkly, "obviously the son of a beast."

She ignored the second somment, staring at him and trying to figure out if he could possibly be joking. "It - it's still there?" Her hands unknowingly moved down to feel her belly and the hard bump that was, indeed, still there.

"It is," he nodded. "Louis thought you had miscarried four different times throughout the night." His stomach rolled as he recalled, threatening to make him sick.

"But it's still alive," she said in wonder.

Vincent pressed a kiss to her forehead, clearing his throat. "Belle, I'm so -" his voice cracked and he had to wait several moments before he could speak again. "I'm so, so sorry. There aren't words to describe how... But words can't fix it, anyway." He pressed his index finger and thumb into his eyes. "I'll make it up to you," he continued in a mutter.

There was a pause for several seconds before she answered. "I didn't do any fertility treatments, you know," she explained, her voice only describable as sad.

"I know," he all but moaned. "I know you didn't. It was a stupid thing to say - I was just so angry -"

"Why?" she wanted to know. Her brows had lowered and were showing the first sign of anger which, for once in his life, he chose not to respond to.

"Let's not talk about it," he said, shaking his head. "It's fine now and that's all that matters."

Belle pursed her lips, not looking terribly thrilled with the concept but also lacking the energy to continue to fight it. She sighed in resignation and asked, "Have you slept at all?"

The prince looked offended that she had even asked. "You think I would have been able to sleep? I'd have gone mad!"

"Well, you ought to or you'll make yourself ill."

He rolled his eyes heavenward, muttering a variety of things stemming from a prayer that his wife would regain her sanity to several individual curses. "_You _are the one that needs to be worried about," he informed her bluntly.

She looked mildly irritated but said nothing.

"_Merde_," he muttered suddenly, and her eyes widened at his open use of such a word. "Sorry," he added quickly. "I was supposed to go get Louis when you woke up. Will you be all right if I step out for a few moments?"

With her nod of consent, her stood up and headed out the door. Louis and Mrs. Potts sat in front of the fireplace, talking in hushed whispers when he found them. They abruptly went silent and turned to look him over.

"She's woken up," he said stiffly, his eyes narrowing. Mistakes or no, he was still the prince, and conspiring of his servants was something no prince would tolerate. Regardless, he chose not to comment on it.

The physician-servant nodded once. "I will return shortly." He stood up and briskly walked towards the stairs to see to his princess.

Mrs. Potts had turned back to gaze at the fire and Vincent stood there awkwardly before slumping into the chair beside her. A tick in her jaw was the only thing to alert him of her annoyance regarding his action - she refrained from saying a word.

"It's not what you think," he told her simply. That was more than enough to set her off.

"Not what I _think_?" she demanded, turning to assauge the prince with eyes that he had never seen so furious. Strict, yes; but angry? Not Mrs. Potts. "What, exactly, does that mean? Because I think you tormented that poor child until she was at her wit's end - and for wanting to be a _mother_, no less! We're _made_ to have children, you know -" here, he quietly muttered, "Not her," but she ignored him and continued, "- and that you would so blatantly deny her is nothing short of a crime. And then, when she can't help that she's going to have one anyway - came to me in tears, you know, and terrified - you tell her to get _rid_ of it? Now, my husband is long dead and let me tell you, we had our spats, but had he ever said anything like that to me with any of my child, I would have taken them and left him without a second thought! And you're trying to tell me I'm thinking _wrong_?"

She went on muttering to herself for several minutes and he said nothing, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Finally, he interrupted her personal little rant and asked, "Do you know how Belle's mother died?"

Mrs. Potts turned to look at him sharply. "No, of course not. I don't ask such things."

"Neither does she," he said quite flatly.

She eyed him and snapped, "What's your point? What has that got to do with anything?"

"She died giving birth - to Belle."

Realization - but not quite forgiveness - dawned on her face and she placed a weathered hand over her mouth. "That's horrible," she muttered, clucking her tongue. "But that's no reason to treat her like -"

"And her aunt with her first child," he added. "And her grandmother with her second."

Her mouth shut, opened again, and then shut again. "Oh, dear Lord," she murmured. "Are you quite certain?"

He nodded once. "Before Maurice left to go back to the village," he explained, "he told me all about it. Cousins, too - it's the plague of her mother's side of the family. He made me promise not to let the same thing happen to his daughter."

"But - why? What's wrong with them?"

At this, Vincent wrinkled his nose. "I didn't want to know the details, and I don't think he knew them, anyway. Something about their hips, he said - they have slender hips? I don't know what that's got to do with birth, but - what are you laughing at?"

Despite the dark topic of conversation, Mrs. Potts was unable to help but chuckle at the reminder of the male ignorance when it came to such things. "Oh, nothing," she muttered, collecting herself promptly. "It's probably best you don't know."

"What does that mean?" he demanded, immediately concerned.

"Nothing of interest to you. Men shouldn't be involved in such things, anyway. You let me worry about her - you should have come to me about that in the first place. You handled it incredibly poorly, and it is no excuse at all for what you did."

He nodded once. "I was not trying to harm her."

She didn't respond, but her anger seemed to have fairly dissolved.

They both turned their heads as Louis came down the stairwell, his face passive. "She's doing much better," he announced, "but I still recommend no less than two full weeks of bedrest."

"She'll love that," Vincent muttered. He sent a look towards his confidant, wondering if he should tell Louis the same he'd told her, but she shook her head.

"I'll tell him," she announced. "You get back to your wife."

With a grateful not and the hint of a smile, he nodded and took the stairs two at a time.

* * *

I can't tell for the life of me if this chapter is very good. It seems like an okay read, but on that same note, kind of half-assed. Let me know what you think.

Ever yours,

-~- Tears of Insanity


	8. Anxiety

Woo. Okay, so, I got no chapters out yesterday and only two the day before. I'm sorry! D: Friends are up to visit from Long Island and I was still dealing with my boyfriend. Thankfully, things are all settled now in that area and I'm having a great time with my friends, so I'm obviously back in the mood for writing! Not to mention that I came back to several wonderful, constructive reviews from many of you. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine.

Chapter Eight: Anxiety

* * *

A solid month had passed since in the incident. Belle was now rapidly approaching her fourth month of pregnancy, and it had been weeks since she had experienced any sort of dizzy spell or illness in general. However, she still had what the entire castle referred to as her "bad days" every once in a while - generally once a week - in which she could experience spotting on her undergarments and/or full days where she was so weak, all she could do was lay in bed and read a book.

The physician was not concerned, luckily. He had informed them that it was simply the aftereffects of the stress that had occured in her body, and even assured them that the days would disappear completely within a few more weeks.

This, of course, did nothing to placate Vincent, who had taken on the role of worried husband and impending father one-hundred-ten percent. He stuck to a general policy of monitoring exactly what she ate, especially the quantity of it. If she was found to be on her feet for more than fifteen minutes, she was scolded and often directed to a chair or bed by force, and on her bad days, he silently and stonily stayed in the bedroom with her, not speaking a word but also refusing to leave.

Belle had initially thought that he did it simply out of guilt - now, she was fairly sure he did it out of a mixture of concern and the former. She convinced herself that it was something that would dissipate over time, and as such, she rarely fussed.

At that moment, she was slowly walking down the stairs with one hand on the railing and one hand on the hard bump on her lower torso that she had become so fascinated with. It seemed to be growing by the day, and its owner was far from self-concious about it. If she wore the right dress, in fact, you could barely even tell that there was a bump, though Mrs. Potts had promised her that it would not remain that way much longer and so to enjoy it while she still could.

Right then, a loud gurgling noise made itself known from the region right above it, reminding her that it was a good hour and a half since she normally ate lunch. She grimaced at the noise, so loud, in fact, that it almost seemed to echo in the large, empty space. As such, Vincent, who was yards behind/above her and had just started coming down the stairs, also heard it.

"You're hungry?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

She started at the sound, not having known that he was there as she hadn't heard him approaching. As she turned around, he quickly jogged down the rest of the stairs until he was even with her, at which point she had to turn once more to look at him.

"You're hungry?" he repeated again. "Why are you hungry? Haven't you eaten?"

Belle scowled at him. "Of course I've eaten," she snapped, annoyed that he would imply she was irresponsible enough to deprive their child of -

"What did you eat for lunch?"

There was a pause.

"Well, I haven't exactly eaten lunch yet. I was just going to so -"

"You _haven't eaten yet_?" He sounded so disturbed at the concept that she was afraid he might have a conniption. "Why haven't you eaten? You're starving yourself!"

He was met with a large frown. "I'm hardly starving myself," she informed him briskly.

"You should be eating three large meals a day, and while we're on the subject, we should start talking about snacks in between."

"I had a huge breakfast," she informed him, ignoring the second part of his comment entirely.

"You're eating for two now," he reminded her stubbornly, as if she could have forgotten.

"Yes, and one of us is half as long as my hand and weighs only a couple of ounces!" Belle said in exasperation. "The buns I eat are bigger than it, so I hardly think it will notice just because it's been a few hours since it got anything new."

"A few hours," he repeated, clicking his teeth together. "No wonder you're still so thin."

She rolled her eyes heavenward. "I haven't gained much weight because it's still so tiny," she said, attempting to be patient. "If I needed to be eating more, Louis would have told me so."

Vincent sighed. "Come eat right now, then." It took everything she had not to snappishly remind him that that was what she had set out to do in the first place.

He grabbed her hand and began dragging her down the stairs at a rather rapid pace, sending a jolt of panic through her. She found that ever since she had discovered her pregnancy, new fears were popping up everywhere, and stairs were near the top of the list.

"Wait!" she nearly yelled, and he stopped dead in his tracks, whirling around to look at her.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked anxiously, looking her over for any sign of something amiss. "I told you you should have -"

"Just don't go down the stairs so fast," she requested softly, staring down at her toes with cheeks flushed red from embarassment.

Vincent stared at her for a moment, his brows drawing together as he noticed the color in her face. "Are you... afraid of the stairwell?" She had been prepared to hear laughter or even mocking in his voice, but instead, it was gentle and quietly curious, which was probably the only reason she honestly answered him.

"Yes," she said, her voice hushed. He cupped her chin and tilted it up so that she was looking at him.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," he explained, and she promptly burst into tears. He patiently held her against his chest, ignoring the fact that his shirt was getting rapidly wet.

"I don't - know - why - I'm - crying," she gasped after a minute or so, and he had to admit mentally that he was equally as stumped.

"Let's go to breakfast," he suggested, and she nodded with a few sniffs. He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her very carefully down the stairs, the railing on the other side.

Once they got into the dining hall, Mrs. Potts saw them and exclaimed, "I wondered when you would make it down for lunch!" She ordered them to be seated and promised to be out with a fresh loaf of bread and milk shortly (tea had been strictly prohibited, though no explanation had been offered as to why).

Before she could rush off into the kitchen, Vincent requested, "Will you send someone to find Lumiere, please?"

Belle sent a curious look at him, but he offered her no explanation and they settled into a discussion about buying a new, shorter table for dining.

Mrs. Potts returned with bread, cheese, and milk, as well as Lumiere in tow. She disappeared once more and Belle waited for Vincent to talk about whatever he was going to talk about, glancing over at him when silence ensued. He was staring back at her, one eyebrow raised as he gestured at the food.

With an exasperated sigh, Belle poured herself some milk and took a sip, her expression saying clearly what she couldn't (her mouth being full of liquid as it was): "Are you happy now?"

He seemed content and turned to the servant that had been standing there, waiting patiently for the little scene to end. "Lumiere, I would like to arrange for our bedroom to be moved downstairs, please."

Belle just about spit out her milk, glowering at him. She swallowed quickly and exclaimed, "We are _not_ moving our bedroom!"

"Belle," he argued, "you said yourself you were afraid of the stairs."

The presence of Lumiere made her face light bright red, clearly not helping his case.

"We aren't moving it," she said firmly. "I like our bedroom where it is, and that's where it shall stay."

"That is utterly ridiculous. I'll not have you going up and down them more than is neccessary, and come to think about it, it's un-needed stress in the first place."

"I go to the library more than I go to our room," she reminded him, "and the library is upstairs. Switching to a downstairs bedroom would only force me to go up and down them even more than I would have otherwise."

The argument raged on for five minutes or so before Lumiere quietly cleared his throat and interjected, "Ahem, _monsieur_, if I might make a suggestion? A compromise of sorts?"

Both parties turned to look at him skeptically. Vincent was the first to speak, inquiring, "What sort of compromise do you propose?"

"A sort of chair, perhaps, that the _mademoiselle_ can sit on, attached to the banister. It will pull her up."

They exchanged glances, both clearly impressed with the concept. "That's a lovely idea," Belle said slowly, "but how could such a chair work?"

"I didn't get that far," Lumiere said, deflating.

They resumed their arguing for several more minutes until Mrs. Potts came out and chided the prince for distracting his wife from her food - which became especially important when she placed unnaturally large amounts of soup on the table along with pastries, berries, more bread, and some sort of poulty. They were promptly informed that they weren't to leave the table until every scrap had been consumed, most of which, she instructed, was to be done by the impending mother.

Of course, Belle assumed that with her out of the room, she could eat however much she wanted - which was obviously incorrect. Vincent drove her like a slave, half force-feeding her at times until she told him in all seriousness that if another thing touched her tongue, she was going to vomit everything she had eaten. Though he had grumbled that he would just make her eat again, he let it go and ate his own share of the food.

* * *

So sorry this took so long. Halfway through it, I went to save and it said I wasn't logged in - I lost a good four-hundred words! Ugh, I HATE retyping things, and I'm certain the original was better, but here it is just the same. To make up for the length, I made it a bit longer than the other chapters have been :)

Ever yours,

-~- Tears of Insanity


End file.
